


Even When We Say Goodbye

by Hoshizora28



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Homophobia, Iwaizumi x boat, Korea 1960s AU, Korean War AU, M/M, Modern Korea AU, Tags to be added, a lot of bad poetry by Daichi to follow, best rowing rower, if you squint there is iwaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoshizora28/pseuds/Hoshizora28
Summary: Kageyama opens the lid of the box curiously. In this box were the letters and diaries of his parents. The story of their first love was in here his father had said. Turning over an envelope, he reads his father’s familiar neat handwriting.Sugawara Koushi to Kageyama Miyo.He pauses, deciding on whether or not he should read the content of these intimate letters. Unable to restrain his intense desire to understand why his father had cherished this box so carefully, he unfolds it, only to find out that it reads:To the one and only Sawamura Daichi,Who in the world was Sawamura Daichi?-----While moving into his father’s old house, Kageyama accidentally discovers a box filled with the diaries of his parents, Sugawara Koushi and Kageyama Miyo. Except when he actually starts opening and reading them, he finds that the letters and diaries are always addressed to a certain Daichi Sawamura.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you remember that lonely alleyway?  
> I still remember now
> 
> The anxious days when I couldn’t tell you I loved you  
> Did you know about that?
> 
> -My Old Story by IU

Kageyama trudges up the familiar wooden stairs, pausing midway to shift the heavy boxes in his arms before beginning again. Grunting, he sets them down in the doorway of a large bedroom, surveying the room with a sense of nostalgia.

The wind languidly moves the white sheer curtains, causing them to flutter and billow out. The sunlight that filters in warms the bamboo flooring and reflects off of it, creating a gentle yellow glow in the room.

Kageyama can almost see it. Almost see him. He can nearly see his father asleep, leaning on one bent arm as a makeshift pillow. His other arm rests on top of the papers strewn across the floor table in the middle of the room. He can picture him with a colorful floral print blanket pulled up close to keep him warm. He can watch as the wind plays with the ashen hair, running through it gently as his father sleeps, still writing in even his dreams.

Kageyama stops before his chest tightens too painfully and closes his eyes to stop the swell of emotions that are inevitably soon to follow. _This is silly. There are still mountains and mountains of boxes to unpack downstairs before university starts._ He walks over to the large wardrobe and swings the doors open. Coughing and swatting at the dust, he begins to pull out the yellowing cardboard boxes filled with things his father had left behind.

At the bottom of the cardboard boxes, he finds a silver metal box, and wonders why it strikes such a sense of familiarity with him. Absentmindedly, he traces his fingers over the intricate metalwork, trying to remember.

Suddenly, it strikes him. Upon opening the lid he finds it stuffed with neatly stacked letters as well as a few well worn folded paper cranes and other folded notes. Sitting on the floor, he pulls them out and finds two leather bound diaries at the bottom, one an old weathered brown and the other black. In this box were the letters between his parents and their diaries. The story of their first love was in here his father had said.

Kageyama remembers every time the box was opened because his father would cry reading these letters one by one.

Turning over an envelope, he reads the familiar neat handwriting.

 _Sugawara Koushi_ to _Kageyama Miyo._

His father had reminisced that the town where the two had met had been out in the country where letters were still passed along by delivery boys on bikes and burlap messenger bags. Although his father always spoke fondly of the little town out in Gwangju, he never visited.

At the time Kageyama had been too young to understand just why these letters had caused his father to cry with his hand covering his mouth to contain his sobs. Even as he grew older, he somehow always knew that the matter was most likely too intimate to press.

The wind blows over a stack of letters and Kageyama groans, chasing them across the floor. However, he hesitates before putting the stack back into the box. Chewing on his lip, he glances at the clock. _2:37._ There was still plenty of time in the day to unpack. Deciding on indulging his curiosity, he opens a letter and pulls out the still crisp white paper. He unfolds it and reads:

_To the one and only Sawamura Daichi,_

Kageyama pauses and then squints at the name again. _Daichi?_ Who in the world was that? He glances over at the envelope that clearly reads that it was addressed to _Kageyama Miyo, his mother._ Wondering if his father had accidentally misplaced the letter into the wrong envelope, he opens another letter addressed to his mother on the outside but finds the letter itself was again addressed to this Sawamura. Quickly, he snatches the leather bound books and opens them, eyes darting across the cover page.

At the corner of the inside cover of the brown diary, he finds the name _Sugawara Koushi_ inked in. He looks at the black one and is stunned to find _Daichi Sawamura_ scrawled in it. _Daichi Sawamura._ Kageyama rubs the cover of the book within his fingers before he turns to the first page and reads.

 

* * *

 

Feet splashing in the muddy rice paddy field, Daichi bends down and then plants another rice shoot. He sighs and rolls up his white cotton pants again before reaching out for another shoot that is passed over by Oikawa.

“Hey Crappykawa, have you ever considered actually taking turns working in the fields like the rest of us?” Iwaizumi straightens up, stretching his back. He folds his arms across his chest and looks pointedly at his friend currently gingerly stepping in the water.

Oikawa whines as he missteps and his foot ends up sinking a good ten centimeters. While he struggles to tug his foot back out, he haughtily replies, “Iwa-chan I am already in the rice field as it is. This is plain gross. Now you want me to sweat and crouch down in it _even deeper_ to plant the shoots?” He reaches into the flat woven basket balanced against his hip with one hand and passes another shoot to Daichi who is _maybe_ grinning underneath the wide brim of his straw hat.

Iwaizumi snorts but holds his hand out for another shoot. “Honestly you are such a city boy. How are you even your parent’s son? Adopted?”

Tooru came from a long line of established farmers. Iwaizumi and Daichi always joked that Tooru had accidentally been switched at birth or arrived as an orphan in a cabbage crate. Of course, this was all untrue as he was the spitting image of his mother.

Oikawa sticks out his tongue and _accidentally_ tosses the next shoot instead of handing it off to Iwaizumi. It makes a pitiful splash as it begins sinking into the murky water. Iwaizumi murderously growls while he feels around for it.

The sound of a rolling wagon alerts them and all the workers in the field look up. Daichi pushes up his hat to better see who was traveling down the dusty dirt trail. Hopefully, it would be the crop owner with lunch.

“Those barrels are definitely filled with _shik-hae_ right?” Iwaizumi grins widely in an expression that matches Daichi’s, The two of them hungrily eye the containers that could hold the refreshing sweet rice water perfect after a day’s work in the sweltering sun.

As the wagon rolls into better view, Daichi notices a head of silver, ashen grey hair bobbing in the back of the wagon next to the food. He pushes his hat back all the way, letting it hang on his shoulders by the string.

As the wagon rounds the corner, Daichi’s breath nearly stills. A beautifully pale young man sits in the back of the wagon, legs swinging over the edge as he leans back on his hands. His eyes are closed and his face is upturned towards the sky with the most serene and halcyon expression Daichi has ever seen. The man is smiling tenderly, basking in the sun, and his nose is crinkled slightly in the beginnings of a laugh.

“Hey, who’s that?” Daichi murmurs, staring shamelessly at the newcomer. _Was that a beauty mark underneath his right eye?_

Oikawa, who never fails to listen to the gossip of the old women around town, hums before snapping his fingers. “Oh. I’m fairly certain that is Sugawara Koushi, some congressman’s son. He’s staying with his Uncle--you know Hiroki-nim--and apparently he’s come to get married to Miyo.”

Daichi vaguely listens to Oikawa rattle off other gossip about this Sugawara because his mind keeps playing like a broken record the last line. _He’s come to get married to Miyo._

Just then the overseer rings the bell for a break and Daichi pulls his hat back on slowly, pushing past Oikawa who is still chattering soundless words.

 

* * *

 

“Come on!! They’re getting away!! Close the net you two!”

“If it’s so easy then why don’t you hold the net!!”

More splashes and the sound of laughter fills the summer air.

“Hey! Less arguing, more net closing!”

Oikawa claps his hands excitedly and squeals, “We got some!” He does his best to wade over as quickly as possible to see their prize. Iwaizumi and Daichi lift the net, grinning at the fish tails frantically flapping against the closed net.

Iwaizumi grabs a fish by its tail and holds it up proudly. “This is a biggest one we’ve gotten yet. Definitely eating this tonight.” Oikawa preens nearby, expectantly holding out his hand. Iwaizumi smirks and then _slaps_ Oikawa on the cheek with the fish. He barks out his laughter when Oikawa shrieks and then kicks up some water in vengeance. _Well that did it._

Daichi does his best to salvage the net as Iwaizumi drops it to shove nothing short of a mini tsunami at Oikawa. Dragging the net over to the river bank and heaving it onto the grass, he wipes his forehead with the back of his sleeve. Ignoring Oikawa’s dramatic wails of apparent dying, he picks up one of the floundering fish to feel its weight.

“Iwa-chan, you’re being a bully!!”

Daichi looks over to find Oikawa soaked to the skin and now Iwaizumi is slinging mud at him.

The sound of a new voice laughing causes Daichi to whirl around. Sugawara stands at the top of the slope, hiding his glee behind one hand and clutching his stomach with the other. The fish pops right out of Daichi’s hand when he squeezes too tight. It falls into the water with a pathetic plop.

Sugawara smiles widely at Daichi, a soft flush coloring his cheekbones. “I heard that you three know the area around here pretty well. Is that so?”

Daichi swallows and then nods slowly. Iwaizumi and Oikawa stop having a soak battle royale momentarily to look over at Sugawara who is- _holy lord-_ walking down the bank to come closer. Daichi nervously tugs at the neckline of his muddy cotton shirt seeing Sugawara in a clean white button down and tan slacks. Nevertheless the latter continues to smile in a disarmingly genuine fashion. “So I heard that the other side of the river bank is something rather enchanting. Apparently Miyo said there’s a sunflower field in bloom right now. Do any of you know how to row a rowboat?”

Daichi stiffens when he hears Miyo’s name, but then steels himself, trying to reprimand his wishful thinking. He had to remind himself that the rest of the world was normal and he was… well… he desired things that no man should desire. He glumly looks back at Iwaizumi about to gesture to him but Oikawa pipes up, “Oh Daichi is the best rowing rower I’ve ever seen.”

Daichi glares at Oikawa as if he could physically stab him with his eyes alone. “Best rowing rower?” he grits out softly enough for only Oikawa to hear, heat blazing across his face.

“Would you mind going to see the fields together?”

Daichi opens his mouth to reject him but instead blurts out, “Of course.”

Sugawara nods affirmatively just as another voice calls out for him. He grins sheepishly and then begins to race uphill before Daichi can amend his statement. “Meet me at noon by the pier, Daichi Sawamura!” He waves and disappears over the bank, leaving Daichi to wonder if he had imagined the entire ordeal. _Wait. Did he just say Daichi Sawamura? Isn’t...Isn’t that my name? Does he know who I am? How does he know who I am?_

A wet hand slaps his back, jolting him back into reality. Oikawa leans in and murmurs mischievously, “Just helping a friend out after all.”

Daichi whips around but finds himself unable to meet the other’s eyes. “What are you even talking about?” He does his best to keep himself from fidgeting nervously. He had forgotten how observant Oikawa was. He had to be careful. If his friends knew the truth about him maybe they wouldn’t be so keen on even touching him with simple gestures like these.

Oikawa hums but after a moment shakes his head. “Nothing.” Still, he gently pats Daichi’s shoulder before hauling himself onto the bank and lying down on the cool grass. Iwaizumi climbs out a moment after and lays down beside him. After a moment, Daichi lets out a huge breath and then settles down on the other side of Oikawa. The large willow tree provides shade as they look up towards the sky, listening to the cicadas drone and drone their summer song. A gentle summer breeze passes over them and chills their dripping clothes.

“So… can someone teach me how to row?”

* * *

 

Daichi paces along the pier, looking up at the hills and wondering how quickly he could run away if need be. Iwaizumi would scoff if he saw Daichi wearing his best button down and black slacks when he was going to _row a boat_ . He can almost hear the disbelief. _Why are you wearing such nice clothes if you’re only gonna drench them in the river minutes later?_

Daichi groans and hits the rudder to his forehead, hoping for death, quickly. As much as he hates admitting the fact he is... _attracted to a man_ , he is much more anxious about hiding that very fact. News spread quickly in a small town like this one and he could not risk dishonoring his family by getting in a scandal fooling around with a congressman’s son. Why was he idiotic enough to agree to this in the first place? He should have turned tail and run at the first sign of danger as he always had.

A quiet cough breaks his silent mental meltdown. Sugawara is breathless from running no doubt and for a moment Daichi wonders if it is wrong to imagine Sugawara running to _him._ Was his resolve truly dissolving this quickly already?

Sugawara sticks out his hand and his face brightens with the sheer felicity in his smile. “Hello. I’m Sugawara Koushi. But you can call me Suga. Nice to meet you.”

Daichi looks at the outstretched hand curiously, eyebrow raised. “Daichi Sawamura, as you already know? And you can call me Daichi, I suppose Besides you decide to do introductions now? Is it not a little strange to trust your life into the hands of someone you’ve just met? What if I decide to drown us both in that river?”

Suga laughs, breaking the onslaught of questions. “Well then _do_ you plan to drown us both in that river, Sawamura? That seems to be a rather romantic but dramatic death only fit for lovers, no? And you say _I_ am strange when you’re already deciding how we’ll die together.” His smile is now laced with mischief, and he pushes past Daichi who is sputtering and gawking. He appraises the old rowboat tethered to the pier before fearlessly jumping into it, causing it to rock and wobble precariously.

“Whoa! Hey!” Daichi immediately reaches out to steady the boat. When Suga grins again with a knowing look in his eyes, Daichi clears his throat and murmurs, “What?”

“See, you’ve saved me. I guess there will be no dramatic drowning after all.” Suga whispers, leaning in close enough to make Daichi gulp. Suga pulls back all too soon and settles on a seat. Daichi nearly drops the rudder on his foot while fumbling with it. This afternoon was going to drag on torturously, wasn’t it.

Daichi rubs the back of his head and exhales deeply. He unties the boat and steps into it, putting the rudder to the back of the boat and moving the paddle from side to side. “Why didn’t you ask Hiroki-nim to take you out? Or maybe even Natsume-nim?”

Suga looks out at the water and plucks a pale lotus. “Yes, I suppose I could’ve done that.” He lifts it and breathes it in, closing his eyes. Something akin to melancholy flickers across his expression and Daichi watches the summer breeze gently wash over him. Suga smiles tenderly into the lily and Daichi’s breath hitches. _How can you emanate such sorrow yet hold so much beauty all the while?_ The spell breaks when Suga opens his eyes and his eyes widen slightly in surprise seeing Daichi looking at him so intently. Daichi immediately clears his throat and continues rowing the boat, rattled that he had been caught in his obvious leering. But still, his chest ached slightly thinking of what could possibly pain Sugawara.

“So how do you spend most days around here?”

Daichi hesitates before answering. Here was the son of a congressman, afterall. He lived in the city, maybe even the Capitol, where the amount of things to do were vast and many. Suga probably hung out with his friends in nice air conditioned buildings, played on the newest game consoles, or maybe even went to giant movie theaters. Did he really want to tell Suga that he chased down bugs whose butts lit up in the dark or that he had watermelon seed spitting contests with Oikawa and Iwaizumi? “It’s honestly not much,” Daichi begins. “Most days Oikawa, Iwaizumi and I work on the rice field for the better half of the day and then spend the afternoon fishing, or stealing watermelons from the watermelon patch without getting caught by Kuroki-nim. Maybe we even… chase down fireflies at night and string up jars of them while we lie down in the grass…” He tapers off, feeling rather mundane and uninteresting.

But instead of disapproval, Suga hums thoughtfully and then leans back against his hands, looking towards the sky. “That sounds incredible. I would trade places with you in a heartbeat.”

Daichi looks at him like he’s grown two heads. Suga notices and explains himself. “I know I must sound ungrateful for the life I have back home. Frankly very cliche too. How could a _congressman’s son_ dare to say that to people who toil every day under the hot sun? It seems selfish that I can take solace in it while you live it.”  

Forlornness, Daichi decides, is a sound that does not suit Suga at all. Daichi quickly shakes his head and replies, “I didn’t think that at all.” _I could never think of you that way. If anything, call me selfish. I take solace in your company in a way you couldn’t imagine._ “I suppose I’m a hopeless romantic, then, since I actually find your cliche to be humble. If.. If you want to… after I finish working on the fields… you can come with my friends. We can show you our favorite spots around here.”

The boat approaches the bank and there is a soft thud as it makes landfall. Suga smiles gratefully at Daichi and nods, “I’ll have to take you up on that offer then.”

Daichi hops out of the boat, splashing in the water and grabbing the rope at the end of the rowboat to tether it again. He winces watching his nice slacks get covered in mud. Yup. Iwaizumi was surely looking at him with strong disapproval. Daichi offers his hand to Suga who takes it and purposefully jumps out onto completely dry land. He looks on in a mixture of pity and amusement at Daichi’s slacks. The latter only scratches the back of his head and offers a sheepish smile.

Suga holds out his hand and Daichi swallows before grasping it. It was a gesture that didn’t bother him usually as Oikawa constantly was dragging Daichi around and towing Iwaizumi with the other hand. But then again, _of course_ it felt different. He hopes his hand isn’t too clammy as Suga hurriedly pulls them up the bank towards the tufts of yellow already peeking out between the trees.

They clear the forest and find themselves at the edge of a giant sea of tall green and yellow. The sunlight only makes the sunflowers radiate even more brilliance. The wind bends the flowers to and fro as though they wave to welcome to the two newcomers. Suga spreads his arms out wide and beams a smile that challenges the sun itself. “Look at how many there are!”

“I forgot how many there are myself. It’s practically its own forest. Do you think you could get lost in it?”

Without another word, Suga runs into the patch, disappearing behind the tall stems that seem to swallow him up instantly. Daichi lets out a strangled cry as the rustling flowers are the only indication of Suga’s general location. “Wait! You really could get lost in there!” His concern is only met with carefree laughter and more rustling. Suga’s head pops out of the brush, his hair visibly ruffled and more fluffy than usual with yellow flower petals sticking out of it haphazardly. He beckons for Daichi to follow him before slowly receding into the field again.

Daichi flushes brilliantly and then hurriedly whips his head from side to side to check if anyone was looking. Of course, no one was. This part of the river bank really only had sunflower fields and wildflower patches. Most everyone in their town had visited when they had first bloomed, but being able to see them annually, nobody came _all the way across the river_ to see them more than occasionally. He bites his lip, already feeling his blood thrumming through him and reminding him exactly how dangerously attracted he was to Suga already. Still, he can’t resist and ventures in. 

Only a few steps in, Suga stands at a tiny clearing between the walls of sunflowers. He looks around him at the towering flowers, breathless. Daichi feels just as breathless as Suga but is instead entranced by the pale figure himself. The flower petals are so bright against the ashen hair, accenting it like flecks of gold against cool silver. _Beautiful._

Daichi feels a magnetic pull towards Suga, finding himself unknowingly gravitating. When Suga turns around, Daichi gazes at the supple, pink lips and his mouth goes dry. The energy seems to become electric enough to raise his hair on end. Daichi leans in _but_ is met with a face full of sunflower as Suga pulls down one of them and points to the center.

“We can eat the sunflower seeds, right?”

He snaps out of his daze. “What?” Shaking himself out of his stupor, he tries to stop from visibly licking his own lips and trying to recall the question Suga had just asked. “Seeds. Yes those are seeds.” He unsuccessfully tries to get his tongue moving. _Pull yourself together, Daichi._ “Sorry,” he mutters, taking the flower from Suga and traps it between his arm and his side. Finding himself unable to make eye contact, he rubs at the seeds until they fall into his waiting hand below and thrusts them at Suga. “They’re good for the immune system.”

Suga accepts them with a bemused expression. “You’ve saved me again.”

“Huh?”

“You told me I’d get lost in these sunflowers. But now if you just--,” Suga cracks open another sunflower seed and lets the black and white shell fall onto the ground. “follow the trail of sunflower seeds then you’ll never lose me, I suppose.”

“I… suppose that is true.”

Just then, despite the sunny skies and hot sun, rain pours down like heavy curtain in what can only be aptly named as nothing short of a flash flood. Daichi blinks the rainwater out of his eyes to find Suga welcoming the rain with a smile that Daichi witnessed the first time he laid eyes on him. It stretches across his cheeks and gives him dimples. Suga crinkles his nose in delight and Daichi is grinning, simply watching him show his happiness with reckless abandon. _He knows he’s too far gone to stop now._

Daichi grabs Suga’s hand and tugs them to the shelter of the forest. Suga only giggles and squeezes tighter as they scramble towards the boat on the other side. Panting for breath, they stop just before the bank and Daichi looks from side to side for the boat. _Except it’s not there._

Daichi squints in the rain, muttering, “I know it was here. There’s the tree. Where’s the--”

“Daichi!!” Suga exclaims, pointing further down.

_The boat._

It _shamelessly_ floats down the river. The old wooden rowboat bobs and flows smoothly along the river’s path as if manned by an invisible spirit. Whereas the part of the stream where Daichi had tied up the boat had been narrow, the boat is now at one of the wider mouths. He would definitely have to swim a good fifteen feet in to get it and fight the current as well as the rain. “The water looks pretty strong already. I hate to ask, but is it possible you can swim out there with me so that we can just climb into the boat. I doubt I could bring it back to land on my own.” He curses his luck that of all days to be utterly incompetent, it had to be today. Maybe he should have practiced good knot tying techniques with Iwaizumi too.

“I can’t swim.” Suga grimaces and looks on apologetically at the boat that is only floating further and further away at a quickening pace. “Embarrassing, I know. But in the city, there really was never a need…”

 _Wait._ Jaw clenching, Daichi grits out, “Wait a minute. You don’t know how to swim so you decide the best thing to do is get in a boat with a boy you don’t know across a large estuary.”

Suga blushes and at least has the decency to look ashamed.

Daichi watches helplessly as the boat disappears around a bend. _He was going to have a lot of explaining to do to Iwaizumi._ “Well… I guess the only thing we can do at this point is head down to the bridge where the river narrows. But..” He sighs. “It is quite a distance from here.”

“I don’t mind.” Suga chirps. He squeezes Daichi’s hand and slowly pulls them down the well beaten path between a row of trees. It’s then that Daichi realizes that Suga has not let go of his hand and seems to have no intention of doing so. He again silently tells himself that he walks hand in hand with Oikawa and Iwaizumi all the time. Still, he thanks the rain in some ways for allowing him to spend more time with Suga. _He was definitely asking the gods for misfortune at this rate._

Though the rain still manages to pour down with them even with the trees as heavy cover, it is blessedly warm.

For a while, only the sound of leaves squelching below their shoes fills the long but comfortable silence. Every time a breeze passes over them or a noticeably heavy shower rains down through a hole in their canopy of trees, Suga takes a moment to let himself blissfully soak in it.

“You know, Iwaizumi loves the rain. But not like this.” _Not like you. You glorify it in like it’s washing away every burden you’ve ever had to carry._ Daichi can’t help but let a easy grin slid onto his lips as Suga happily tousles the rainwater from his hair. “Don’t tell me in the city they’ve found a way to get rid of spontaneous monsoon showers.”

Suga giggles at that. “When I was a young boy, I would constantly run out to meet the rain. Sometimes if Father wouldn’t let me outside, I’d stand in the balcony of our house and just relish in it. But obviously that isn’t the behavior of a well-behaved politician’s son. When you’re young, you can get away with it. When you grow up, it’s irresponsible. I’ve been merely watching the rain out of car door windows and from the inside of my house for a while.” He looks back at Daichi. “Do you think it’s silly I find so much happiness in these small tokens?”

“No. I think it’s beautiful.” _It makes you beautiful._

The rain pours down heavier as if Heaven’s Gate itself had opened and is thunderous as it pounds into the river and ground. Daichi manages to make out a fuzzy building in the distance. They take shelter in a small bell shrine, both of them clapping their hands together twice and then taking a low bow. From underneath the colorful awning, they watch the river grow more powerful. Just then a familiar wooden object whips by and both of them stare at it silently before laughing at the ridiculousness of their circumstances. Stranded on the wrong side of the river.

“We might be stuck here for a while by the looks of it,” Daichi observes as the clouds start to gather and rumble.

Suga sighs and stretches. He brings his hands to his buttons and starts _unbuttoning his shirt._ Daichi can only gape in horror before stuttering out, “W-What are you doing, Suga?”

Suga hums in question but doesn’t pause. The shirt falls away to reveal more pale, milky white skin that was so fair Daichi was certain Suga was an actual angel. Daichi was doing his very best not to imagine ghosting his lips over the unmarred collarbone that was peeking out now. “Well we should wring out our clothes if we’re going to be here for a while, shouldn’t we?"

No, Daichi’s voice did _not_ go up five octaves as he wheezes, “I thought you liked the rain?” His eyes are immediately drawn to the pendant hanging on a leather string. Ebony wire secures the top of the amber stone to the leather. It only accents the snow white paleness of Suga’s skin even more. He does his best to keep his mind away from the fact that Suga was pretty much done unbuttoning his shirt.

Of course, Suga notices Daichi’s gawking and looks down to the pendant. “This was given to me by Uncle Hiroki when I was very young. It’s supposed to keep you safe from harm. It has the character written for the White Heron.”

Daichi finds that quite fitting for Suga to be wearing the pendant of the White Heron. It was said to be so pure and beautiful that even mud could not stain it’s feathers. “It suits you.” His voice bravely only cracks once.

Suga laughs and starts shrugging off his shirt. Daichi tells himself to tear his gaze away before he can think more sinful thoughts in the presence of a _temple._ But he can only gulp loudly as he watches water trail down the pale outline of toned abs and further down til--

Daichi digs his fingernails into his palm to immediately slam that train to a halt. He coughs and looks away, merely listening to the sound of water splashing on the stone tiles as Suga squeezes it out. 

“Daichi, are you going to sit in your wet clothes?

Daichi turns and clenches his jaw as Suga takes a seat next to him, _still shirtless._ If he ever thought he had received the favor of the gods, they were making it fairly clear that he hadn’t. “I’m fine,” he gruffly responds. There was no way he was going to strip in front of Suga.

They stay that way for the next few hours, listening to the sound of the rain and breathing in the misty air. By the time the rain lets up, dusk is beginning to set and the two high school seniors make a run for it, knowing full well that Suga had not expected to be out this late.

The welcoming party by the bridge that seemed to be almost the entirety of the town did not come as a surprise to either of them. They pant breathlessly as they stop in front of the crowd and Hiroki-nim wraps a warm blanket around his nephew. Daichi’s father comes and cuffs Daichi on the ear, huffing and muttering how in the world he had managed to raise such an irresponsible son. A son that had managed to spirit away the congressman’s son, nonetheless But Daichi knows that the hit was given more as a release of worry and stress than real punishment.

As Suga is lead away, he manages to turn around, looking over the bundle of blankets and smile impishly at Daichi. However, his eyes shimmer with apology that he was being scolded. He gives a tiny wave before Hiroki-nim claps him on the back and pushes him forward.

Daichi grins back, the smile nearly splitting his lips. The next two figures that come up to him are trying their best to give him a disapproving glare.

Oikawa tuts, hands on his hips. “Daichi. I swear. _Michyeosseo?_ We thought you might have drowned! We couldn’t even find the boat anywhere!”

“Yeah, where the hell is my boat, Daichi?” Iwaizumi growls, cracking his knuckles. “You better not have let her drown or I’ll toss you straight into that rushing water right now.”

Oikawa slaps Iwaizumi on the head, “Iwa-chan, you brute. Try and care about your friends for once. What even happened?”

But Daichi can only give them a giddy grin and scratch the back of his head.

 

* * *

 

Kageyama curses the heavens for his tendency to have misfortune befallen by only more misfortune. The weather had clearly said that it was going to be sunny and dry… well as dry as it could be during monsoon season. He had no idea what the weather forecasters considered sunny or dry at this point since it was neither of those and he was soaked. He takes shelter under a large oak tree, checking the duffle bag shielded by his cardigan. It was still mostly dry, something he was relieved to note. Maybe the heavy rain from the diaries had somehow escaped into his time period. Still, the stories and memories the books contained were too precious and Kageyama immediately regrets having ever brought them outside.

He sets the bag down on a table and keeps his cardigan over the bag just as extra precaution. He runs his fingers through his hair and wipes his eyes with the back of his hands. Getting down to his lecture hall was definitely going to be an adventure. He sighs heavily, scanning the nearby buildings and mentally creating the quickest route with the least rain exposure.

Kageyama couldn’t have missed _him even if he tried._

Hinata Shouyo, Art major, second year just the same as him, short, blindingly orange, annoyingly charismatic and loud enough to cause Kageyama to have ringing in his ears for days. Hinata was definitely one of those people that just drew people in with his enthusiasm and fervor for anything, everything, life. It would have disgusted Kageyama that he could be so unbelievably _happy_ all the time if the English major wasn’t so impressed.

Hinata holds a bright orange umbrella, _daebak_ , with tiny little black crows along the rim of it. For some reason he’s running until Kageyama sees him nearly run into a female student who is doing her best to cover herself from the rain with her backpack. Hinata stops her and then sticks out his hand, offering his umbrella.

_Can you stop being the perfect gentlemen for one moment? Who the heck even taught you to live like that?_

The girl bows a few times before accepting the umbrella gratefully with two hands. Hinata grins and then looks around wildly for a place to take shelter. Kageyama grits his teeth as he notices in almost the same moment as the idiot ginger that this tree is about the only cover within a quarter mile radius.

Predictably, Hinata comes running to the oak tree and barrels under its shelter. Kageyama nearly hisses as the newcomer spatters some of the rainwater on him after he had _just finished getting dry._ Well, as dry as one could get once wet enough to feel water sloshing in his own shoes.

Hinata blinks and then cocks his head to the side. He snaps his fingers, jolting Kageyama at the sharp motion. “Kageyama Tobio. My lab partner in Chemistry.”

Kageyama coughs loudly at the fact that of all the memories by which Hinata had to remember him it was this one. The two of them had nearly set fire to the entire building a week in and the professor had hurriedly reassigned them to new partners. He sighs, more than slightly disappointed. He knows full well that despite the fact he had attended nearly...somewhat...close to…. all of Hinata’s art exhibitions, he was probably just another face in the crowds.

“Guahhh, the rain was a real shock. And it’s coming down so hard. The art rooms are so far from here,” Hinata wildly runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

Kageyama nearly bursts a vein, muttering, “Yes except you had an umbrella and you gave it away. So really I fail to see how you are complaining at a situation you created yourself. “ He lifts his cardigan and checks his duffle bag again. It was starting to get damp. He’d have to run for it soon.

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with being a gentleman! My father always taught me that I should live my life selflessly. I don’t see how it’s a problem to you if I help someone else out! Besides the one who really landed themselves into this situation carelessly is you. You don’t even have an umbrella.” Hinata pouts, trailing off and grumbling to himself.

“It’s a problem when I have to listen to you complain, _babo._ ” Kageyama grunts. “Besides…” _Shouldn’t you take care of yourself? Who’s going to take care of you?_ “It didn’t say it was going to rain today. The forecast was sunny all day.”

The arguing was giving Kageyama a headache. He shrugs back on his bag and moves to run for it.

“You should drop by the art room sometime.”

Kageyama freezes.

“You like art, don’t you? I see you at some of the art exhibits.”

He couldn’t tell if he was pleased or thoroughly vexed at being caught.

Hinata licks his lips and tries again, “Look I have a new piece I need to think up soon. Would you mind letting me paint you? I promise it’s not that hard.”

Kageyama moves his cardigan to safely guard the bag, gripping the strap tightly, and runs.

 

* * *

 

 

Kageyama sits on the window sill with one knee bent and the other leg grazing the wooden floor. His notebook rests against his knee as he looks out the window aimlessly. His pen taps his notebook paper which was unfortunately blank, an event that was occurring more often than he would have liked. Sighing, he leans back his head until it hits the wallspace along the frame of the window. He closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind, grasping for inspiration.

Nothing.

He exhales deeply through his nose and sinks onto the floor. He looks at the table where the diaries rest silently, waiting to be opened. Scooting over, he grabs them and opens to another entry.

 

* * *

 

Daichi Sawamura was concerned. Very concerned.

It is twenty minutes into his history lesson but he can’t hear a word the teacher is saying. Even as the instructor tries his best, drawing arrows to illustrate battle movements or writing dates above bullet pointed summaries of events, Daichi Sawamura cannot take his eyes off the empty desk sitting in front of him.

It was exactly twenty minutes ago, _twenty-one now,_ that the teacher had called Sugawara Koushi’s name only to be met with silence. Daichi wasn’t sure which his stomach was roiling about: the fact that Suga was in his class or the fact that the said Suga was not present.

He slumps over his desk, one arm cradling his head.

_Tap._

A folded paper note bounces off of Daichi’s face. He notices the precise, sharp folding as well as the choice of shape to belong to none other than Oikawa. Picking up the note, he tries his best to give Oikawa a dirty look. But, the star student is smartly facing forward, perfectly still as if he had not just launched a piece of paper across half the room. He unfolds the note and reads:

_Daichi, you can only sigh loudly like a damsel in distress so many times before Sem notices. I can’t keep asking questions about every good little soldier in the Baekju war to talk over the sounds of your apparent distress._

Daichi frowns at the paper. He did _not_ sigh like a damsel in distress. But even still, he tucks his mouth into the crook of his elbow.

When the class bell finally rings, Daichi stands and stretches tall. As he sinks back into his chair, he notes that the sun’s warm rays are tauntingly beaming against his back. Why couldn’t the sun have come out like this yesterday?

A small, lithe figure hops up onto the desk beside Daichi, feet kicking back and forth. “Hey Daichi. You’ve been awfully quiet today.”

Daichi feels his stomach twist again but finds the strength to face Miyo, who is straightening out her black skirt. “Yeah, I guess I’m tired from yesterday.”

Miyo giggles as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “You mean the incident with you and Suga. That was really funny. Hiroki-nim was pretty furious. Father vouched for you though.” Daichi winces, knowing he has probably not made the best impression on Miyo’s father who happened to be his boss. The Kageyamas owned most of the crops in the town while Sugawara’s uncle happened to be the mayor. Daichi’s family had known the Kageyamas for a while but even still he was grateful to Kageyama-nim to look out for him.

“But you know, because of you, Suga is in the hospital now.”

Daichi’s eyes widen and he looks to Miyo with panic. “What!”

Miyo laughs mischievously at her childhood friend. “Daichi, you are always so predictable. You never fail to be kind even to someone you’ve met only once.  Don’t worry. It isn’t that bad. More precaution than anything. Suga always had a weak constitution as a child. I heard he’s leaving the hospital tomorrow. I’m actually going to go visit him today.” She hops off the desk. “I’ll tell him you were worried for him.”

“Yeah.” Daichi tries to push down the growing sense of jealousy beginning to sit on his chest. Jealousy because she could go to see him. Jealousy because she already knew so much about him. Daichi groans and plants his face into his arm. Since when had he been petty enough to be jealous of Miyo, who had been nothing but a good friend to him for many years. Sugawara Koushi was a menace and he didn’t even know if there was time to stop emotions that had started to toy with his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Shik-hae: sweet rice water  
> **Michyeosseo: Are you crazy?  
> ***Daebak: Typically means Wow or Amazing but nowadays it can be used as a negative term. When something is really ridiculous, it's so crazy you say daebak as "Wow I can't believe it"  
> ****Babo: Stupid  
> *****Sem: Abbreviation of teacher. Usually adds closeness or intimacy. Kinda like Teach, for teacher
> 
> Some cultural notes: In Korea, holding hands was really not considered as a sign of lovers as it is now. My Dad used to tell me all the time how he would hold his male friend's hand on the way to school as a kid. So Daichi knows Suga doesn't mean it intimately (or does he...) but he wishes it was something more so he hesitates.
> 
> Their uniforms were the old Korean military style uniforms. [[x]](http://ysfine.com/friends/kboys01.jpg) [[x]](http://ysfine.com/friends/kgirls01.jpg) [[x]](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/60/e0/d1/60e0d1836db05b4b8875f53cae31b083.jpg)
> 
> Suga and Daichi are in their last year of high school so prepare for much awkwardness and nostalgic feels
> 
> Thanks so much for getting this far. This is my first time posting a work and I was so afraid to do it. I was basically bullied by my best friend [flameofarcana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flameofarcana/pseuds/flameofarcana) so go check her out. I was inspired mostly by IU's Flower Bookmark album, stories from my grandmother, and quite a few classical dramas and films. I hope I can portray them accurately to paint a picture of wartime Korea/modern Korea. I will try my best to update this fic bi-monthly but college has started for me so we'll see how that goes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadness that blooms as cosmos flowers at the train station  
> You’re the aromatic scent that blows by
> 
> I would build a castle on top of the fluffy clouds  
> And in it I would build windows for you, windows for the breeze
> 
> Even if you only speak one word  
> Even your simple laughter  
> They hold such meaning for me
> 
> -The Meaning of You by Kim Chang Wan

“What am I even doing here?” Daichi mutters, cautiously checking the second story window of the local hospital from behind a tree. A familiar black-haired girl sits on a stool by the window, talking animatedly with the patient whom Daichi can’t see from this angle. He knows exactly who it is, of course, who Miyo is talking to. This only makes it more ridiculous that he is here, staked out in the brush like a school girl trying to catch a glimpse of her crush. Miyo moves to open the window and Daichi immediately hides behind the tree again, lowering his school cap. _I’ve completely lost my mind. Wanjeon._

“Alright, well I don’t want to keep you up, Suga. Please rest well.” Miyo says, chair scraping against the tile as she pushes it. Daichi tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach watching Miyo animatedly wish Suga goodbye. _We stand in different spheres of social class. I have no right to stand by his side. What could he need from a poor farmer boy?_ He pokes his head around the trunk and watches her form disappear.

_Silence._

He had made the entire trek doubting his ability to _actually_ be this foolish until suddenly he had arrived right at the hospital. All four miles. Daichi Sawamura was a very rational person so now he rationalized that he was completely head over heels for the most scandalous thing his body could find probably within a fifty mile radius. How much more harm could he do anyway? He was already here. Sighing while checking his surroundings, Daichi eyes the thick ivy vines that rope up right next to the window he needed to climb into. Suga was definitely in for a surprise visit.

He runs to the wall and starts climbing, feet immediately finding footholds. Iwaizumi was quite the competition when climbing trees (especially when he found a particularly large beetle for his collection) so this came with ease to Daichi. He stops right below the window. Licking his lips he whisper shouts, “Suga… Suga. It’s me.”

There’s the clear sound of a book being snapped shut. “Daichi?” The reply comes back hesitant and disbelieving. Daichi grins at that, for some reason feeling quite proud that for once he had surprised Suga. Blankets rustle but Daichi already has climbed high enough to poke his head in the window. He looks around just as he hears another window open. _Wait. What?_  He nearly falls off his ivy from laughter finding that the patient in question had gotten up and stuck his head out the window on the _other_ side of his bed.

“What happened to you Daichi?” Suga cries in mock horror. His voice sounds muffled and far away as he’s still halfway out the window. “I can only see half your body!”

Daichi shakes with mirth, replying, “I could say the same to you. What have they done to you in the hospital. They cut your head off. All I can stare at is your backside from here.”

There’s a rather pregnant pause as Daichi realizes what he’s just admitting to doing.

Daichi freezes and then proceeds to feel his soul agonizingly leave his body. That was definitely the end of his lifetime. He should just let go now and fall to his bloody end on the lovingly dirt flooring. This was a hospital but surely they couldn’t save someone that had fallen from the second story window. He hoped that Oikawa wouldn’t write anything too crazy on his gravestone.

Suga is nearly bent over the window sill as he is trying to hold in giggling. The doctors were constantly hovering outside his door on his Uncle’s order and he couldn’t risk them coming inside. Suga pulls himself inside the room and smiles devilishly, pointedly turning his back away from Daichi. “For my own dignity,” Suga whispers.

Daichi wheezes, “I’m going to let go now.”

Suga quickly comes over to the other side and grabs hold of one of Daichi’s arm. “No no. That is much too easy a death for such a slanderous criminal such as yourself. Peeping in on an unsuspecting patient. No. I’m going to hand you over to the authorities.” He tugs Daichi inside. As Daichi straightens, blinding pain in his side only has him doubling over again. Suga has an angel smile on his face but the jab just delivering into his side tells Daichi otherwise.

Containing his cough into the sleeve of his jacket, he dismissively waves for Suga to climb back into bed. Even though Suga was acting as though he was completely healthy, the white and blue striped hospital clothes were telling him otherwise. Suga crawls back under the covers and then pretends to coyly lift the sheets all the way to his chest with a scandalized look. Daichi grins despite the deepening flush on his cheeks. The mischief seemed to be the only contagious thing in this room.

“So did you come here out of guilt or because you wanted to mess up horribly?” Suga taps his finger to his chin before replying, “Oh wait. You seemed to have already done that you peeping pervert. Was yesterday’s mishap not enough?”

Daichi is starting to think that he has lived too much of his lives in the fields. How did he suddenly learn the ways of the tomato? “I’m... really sorry about yesterday. And. Now. Today. I hope you aren’t supposed to be resting right now.”

Suga crosses his arms and pretends to consider Daichi’s punishment. “ Hmmm should I make you _bul-suh_ for your crimes or… perhaps I will ask that you walk with me to--”

Just then the door swings open and Daichi widens his eyes from his corner while Suga immediately dives under the covers and flutters his eyes shut pretending to be asleep. The doctors and Uncle Hiroki walk in and Suga breathes deeply and in an exaggerated manner. Daichi presses himself as close as he can to the corner as possible, willing himself to be as still as Nana’s dead pear tree.

“Koushi-yah. _Gwaenchanh-ni?_ ” Hiroki miraculously doesn’t notice Daichi who is partially covered by the swinging door. Hiroki comes closer to the bed. He sighs seeing his nephew sleep and rubs his chin, looking to the doctors. “How much longer is he going to be sick? It isn’t pneumonia is it?”

The doctors shake their heads and reassure the mayor that Suga is going to be just fine. A slight fever and cough from the rain is all they are seeing.

Daichi starts to open the door to the closet behind him, hoping to hide in there. Suga peeks open one eye to look at Daichi while Hiroki and the doctors discuss something amongst one another. Suga gasps silently and shakes his head to stop Daichi. But it is already too late. The door creaks loudly in protest, piercing the quiet murmurings and undeniably alerting the members of the room.

Immediately, the doctors and Uncle Hiroki whirl around to find Daichi grinning and tipping his cap in apology. He bows deeply. “Ah. Wrong room.” He jerks his thumb to the closet and laughs awkwardly. Backing into the closet, he attempts to smile, which was so much more a look that he was quietly accepting his oncoming death. When he finishes backing into the closet, he shuts it--the door not forgetting to, again, creak boastfully.

Suga bursts into laughter only to be silenced by his uncle who gives him a deprecating glare. One of the doctor sighs when the door refuses to open, stubbornly shut to try and keep its inhabitant safe. He swings the door open and Daichi bows humbly before darting out the door to the hospital room.

Hiroki sighs and mutters, “Sawamura is making quite a lot of trouble these days isn’t he? Oikawa what have you done to him? Or?” He looks back at Suga who is smiling behind the sheets, sinking further into his bed.

* * *

 

Kageyama bites back the urge to scream and hits himself with his notebook. He had been pacing outside this door for at least fifteen minutes now. Was he really this worked up and nervous over some.. Idiot with painfully orange hair? He looks at his clammy hands and grits his teeth, acknowledging that yes he was in fact very nervous. Slapping himself (and then immediately regretting that decision), he grips the door handle and finally manages to turn it. He swings it open and forces himself to look up.

“Who’s there?” Hinata steps out from behind his canvas, covered in paint from nearly head to toe. It is streaked across his cheeks, dabbled across his chin, spotted on his shirt, splattered on his jeans. Just a myriad of smashing colors that clashed and were misshapen yet all of Hinata in the same moment. _And then he smiles._ He smiles wide, all teeth, his eyes disappearing into small crescents and the creases around his eyes deepening. _It is remarkably brilliant._

Kageyama tries to look away to stem the swelling in his chest but he can’t seem to tear his eyes off Hinata in all his colorful glory. For a while now he has been trying to deny that he is in love with Hinata… popular, charming Hinata who drew in the attention of everyone with his vivacious optimism and energy for most everything. What could he possibly want with dark, reserved, intimidating Kageyama Tobio? Not to mention the burdens and secrets Kageyama had to carry as a politician’s son, desperately hiding from the spotlight. Hinata basked in the very thing Kageyama had learned to loathe. What could Kageyama do other than drain Hinata of his eagerness for living?

He finds Daichi’s words chanting in his head. _We stand in different spheres of social class._ Despite reading all the letters, Kageyama knew that his father had cared for and loved his mother deeply, it was obvious the feelings he held for Daichi were a different passion. Kageyama knew by now that Daichi and his father had never gotten their happy ending so why did they risk it all. There were possibly hundreds of letters in that box, indicating that they had continued their relationship for quite some time. What could they possibly have thought to gain by risking their hearts in the chaos that was love?

“I’m glad you decided to come. I’ve been waiting for you.” Hinata cheerily replies, bouncing over and holding out his hand. He looks at it, wincing it, seeing as it was covered in paint as well and retracts it.

_I’ve been waiting for you, huh…_

Kageyama clears his throat. “I really don’t understand why. I.. I’ve never modeled before and I’m sure there are other subjects you can practice on.” He finishes off lamely.

Hinata dismissively waves his hand at him. “It’s not whether or not I can get someone else to model for me. It’s all about being able to pick an interesting subject!” He wipes his hand on a rag and then starts dragging a stool to the middle of the room, a few feet away from the canvas. “Sit.”

Kageyama awkwardly lifts himself onto the stool and folds his hand in his lap, doing his best to give a serious, intense expression. Hinata laughs at the ridiculously stiff posture and intimidating expression that seemed more like Kageyama was trying to be the poster child for a horror movie villain. Kageyama scowls deeper and opens his mouth to protest but Hinata is quicker, “I don’t expect you to actually model so forget trying to look a certain way. Honestly you look even more constipated than usual, which I frankly didn’t know was possible at this point.” He sticks out his tongue when Kageyama growls.

“What do you normally do? What are your hobbies?”

Kageyama pauses before lifting his notebook half-heartedly. “I write. English major.”

Hinata hums, before grinning wickedly, “What is an English major doing at every art exhibition?”

Kageyama grits his teeth and snaps, “A writer can’t look for inspiration anywhere else but in books? I’m obviously there to help me get ideas for my writing class, _babo._ ” Hinata doesn’t seem to bite at the excuse, only snickering.

He clears his throat and then motions to the notebook. “Show me.”

Kageyama nearly chokes on nothing but air as he recalls the most recent poem in his notebook.

_Paint flecks across your jawline_

_A tiny trail of stars across your cheeks_

_A fantasy of dreams struck in your eyes_

_You’re the orange cosmos that blooms amidst the chaos_

His hesitation must have shown across his face because Hinata quickly shakes his head, amending, “Not your literal writing if you don’t want to. I meant for you to show me how you write. Act like you’re writing right now. Just open your notebook and place your pencil on the paper.”

“Like this?”

Hinata chews on his bottom lip. “No. You still look really staged. Ease up your expression. Unless you really do write that angrily all the time.”

Kageyama sighs in exasperation. “I’m telling you. I really am not cut out for this kind of stuff.”

“I’ve seen you write before. You looked happy.” Hinata replies confidently. “Just give me a moment to help you remember what that even feels like.” He nudges Kageyama playfully when the other doesn’t take that well to the comment, growling under his breath. “I know it sounds cliche but really for a moment pretend like I don’t exist. Is this even a good chair for you? How do you normally write?”

Kageyama looks around the room and slides off the stool. He walks over to the wall and pushes back the dark curtains meant to help art students play with lighting. Throwing them open, he nods satisfactorily at the window sill, perching on it. He rests his notebook on one bent knee, the other foot just ghosting the floor.

Hinata breaks into a smile. “ _Asah!”_ He cheesily throws up a thumbs up signal to which Kageyama snorts. Then, Hinata cocks his head to the side and looks over Kageyama again with more concentration, outlining in the air his clothes and overall form. Kageyama has seen that gaze many times before and now for once it’s focused on him. Hinata’s tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth as he rearranges Kageyama’s clothes, opening up the woolen cardigan. He moves up and cautiously moves his hand towards Kageyama’s hair. His eyebrow raises in silent questioning. Kageyama clears his throat and nods.

The artist’s fingers are still noticeably covered in drying paint smudges. They flutter as they make contact with the onyx locks before gently brushing through them. Kageyama looks up at Hinata and finds the other not meeting his gaze, fully focused on his task at hand. His hands are tender and soothing, nearly causing Kageyama to close his eyes and simply enjoy the touch. He knew Hinata strictly meant business, but being close enough to the artist... close enough to catch scents of drying paint and earth...  _Aish, I’m in lov--_

“Just like that.”

Kageyama is pulled from his daze. “What?”

“Your expression just now. Do it again. That’s the perfect look.” Hinata pulls away and his eyes study Kageyama’s face once more. For a moment Kageyama thinks that the other has guessed his feelings but Hinata simply continues to adjust Kageyama’s posture. Unsure if he’s relieved or upset, Kageyama watches those chestnut eyes burn brightly with spirit and zeal and begrudgingly lets those frustratingly warm feelings wash over him again. Hinata tucks one more hair away, a touch Kageyama steels himself from leaning into, and then steps back to admire his work. It's that look that makes Kageyama uncomfortable. Hinata was looking at him as though he was cherished and loved. But surely this was just another project of his and Hinata's eyes were burning bright with eagerness to get started on his sketching.

“See. I told you you’d be good at this.” He runs back to the easel and sets down his most recent painting. Kageyama takes this moment to take a deep breath and clear his thoughts. He glimpses at the painting as Hinata leans it against the wall but only is able to catch a starburst of colors from where he’s seated. “Hey hold your position!” Hinata exclaims when he finds Kageyama craning his neck to see the piece.

Kageyama grumbles but nevertheless resets himself, turning to gaze out the window and wishing he could feel the soft summer breeze. Unfortunately it was once again rainy and this window didn’t even open.

His pencil taps against the paper again.

_You’re the orange cosmos that blooms in the chaos_

He struggles not to punch himself at how terribly cliche it sounds. As if he could do anything with that poem other than throw it away. His strength was sensory and imagery poetry yet whenever he tries to write about this orange sunball... He looks over at Hinata who is shading in carefully and listens to the sound of the pencil scraping across the paper. Despite the fact that Hinata basically made him useless and clung to his brain like a disease, in quiet, peaceful moments like these he finds himself wishing he could always enjoy Hinata’s presence like this. Even from across the room, the warmth and blanketing happiness seemed to trickle off of artist constantly and wrap around Kageyama in with an addicting gentleness.

Even the silence between them while Hinata works is not in any way oppressing or heavy. It’s comfortable and it’s a little unnatural considering how much Hinata could occupy the air with noise and words within seconds. Still, Kageyama finds it surprising how easily they relax around each other.

Rain pitters against the window pane and the wind rustles the leaves outside. Bobbing umbrellas colorfully stand out against the hues of monochrome greys. Yet in the stillness of this classroom with only the two of them and the sound of a pencil against the paper, it somehow feels disconnected from the outside world.

“Hey did you bring your umbrella this time, _babo._ ”

“Did you?” Hinata shoots back, grinning as he continues to shade. “Even though that girl actually ended up returning her umbrella to me I haven’t carried it around.” He looks up and makes a noise when Kageyama looks at him questioningly with the condescending look sliding back into place. Hinata gestures vaguely in the air for his model to reposition himself. “I don’t know. I’ve heard that good things come from being stuck in the rain with someone.”

Kageyama swears he can hear his father laughing at that.

* * *

 Daichi haphazardly walks down the corridor balancing a box of cleaning supplies in an arm and his hip while holding broomsticks in his other hand. He is definitely going to kill Oikawa later for skipping out on classroom duties.

As he passes by one of the doors, he hears the beginning of a sonata. It's slow and thoughtful but slowly gains more speed, spilling out emotions of what could only be love. He pauses and peers through the cracks in curiosity. The music room was hardly used these days as the planting season had taken away most of the free time for high school students after school.

Suga lets his fingers dance across the keys, gracefully maneuvering from one octave to the next. His hands fluidly move back and forth and he sways softly with the feel of the song. He closes his eyes and his expression is filled with wistfulness. Daichi stands rooted watching him pour tenderness and melancholy all in the same moment. His movements become more dynamic as the music swells but then he lightly, nearly hesitantly presses the keys as if afraid to confess his emotions. It's nearly enchanting. The sunlight filters in from the window, hitting the piano and keys to add a nearly divine glow around Suga and the instrument. The song grows in intensity, the runs nearly tumbling over one another as if his feelings were pouring out all at once. Suga leans into the piano and his hands float across the keyboard.

Daichi sets the box down and puts his hand on the door. He watches mesmerized once more as Suga continues to weave a spell around him, the air almost alive with energy. He allows the notes to wash over him for a moment more before letting himself in.

Suga looks up and stops in surprise. His face immediately brightens into a wide smile. He rests his hands in his lap but Daichi shakes his head in protest, leaning against the doorway. “Please continue. I know that piece and I promise I’ll recognize it if only a few more bars are played.”

The pianist looks back at the keys and then nods as if assuring himself that he could perform. “I haven’t really played it for anyone yet. I’m normally quite shy about this. I don’t really quite know but this piece specifically seems to be… harder to show people. I guess while learning the piece I didn’t quite understand the composer’s emotions but recently I’ve been more aware of his feelings of love.” He runs his fingers lightly along the top of the piano.

Daichi laughs softly and replies, “Shy? You? Sugawara Koushi, the boy that fearlessly leaps into a boat despite not knowing how to swim. Why is it I can’t seem to stick that word with you.” 

Suga hides his own mirth behind his hand and then quiets, “It’s supposed to be presented to the Kageyamas when I see them for officially sealing Miyo’s proposal. Uncle wants me to play for them and is quite pleased with my progress in this song.” He ghosts his lithe fingers over the keys once more before easing back into the melody.

Daichi grips the broomstick tighter watching Suga pour as much emotion as he can into a piece meant for someone else. It is then that Daichi recognizes the piece...

_Clair de lune... the story of a love-sick pierrot that hides behind his smiling mask yet longs silently for another._

Yet the thing Daichi fails to recognize is the pain on Suga’s face paralleling his own.

* * *

 

Daichi snaps the switch to keep the oxen pair moving while Iwaizumi leads them from the front. Oikawa, of course, sits on a log off to the side, watching the pair toil without any sense of guilt. He even has the audacity to yawn boredly at the sight. “Mn. Iwa-chan I think the rows aren’t straight. Move a _littttle_ bit to the right.” He closes one eye and swats a hand in a vague direction.

Iwaizumi growls and gives a fierce look that merely causes Oikawa to stick out his tongue in defiance. It causes Iwaizumi to mutter under his breath, “Who the hell is going to marry you, Crappykawa. How is your wife going to have any chance of scolding you if you’re doing all the complaining for her?”

Before Oikawa can even heave in a large breath to rattle off his long list of _just why_ he was the perfect husband, Daichi silences him with a pleading look. He could only listen to them squabble for so long before wanting to let the oxen trample over him, plow and all.

For a while the only sound is the plow dragging in the mud or the moaning cicadas. The clouds provided gentle cover from the sun and decorated the sky like paint strokes. Daichi nearly loses himself in the work, mindlessly pressing the plow forward. It’s a quiet and comfortable silence.

_And it’s broken._

“And so the caged sparrow was released every night, taking to the air with reckless abandon, uncaring of its pitiful state. It let the moonlight reflect upon its feathers and let the lake parallel its form. Dancing beautifully in the sky.” Suga recites alluringly, softening his voice to mirror the bittersweet tone of the bird. Miyo looks at him, entranced at the subtle aura of sorrow. She grips his arm tighter in suspense and he looks at her with surprise as if forgetting that he had been reciting at all. Miyo smiles at him and he offers a bright smile back.

“Daichi?”

Daichi is startled from his trance, looking at a confused Iwaizumi who is motioning to the stopped plow. He moves his hands to grip the plow but cannot get his feet to move forward, locked in place with a twisted fascination to continue listening to the conversation between Suga and.. Miyo.

The two of them walk down the beaten path, just beginning to reach the edges of the field now. Daichi turns away quickly and notes that they will soon notice him and may even call out to him. He snaps the reins to get the oxen moving--

“Daichi!!” Miyo calls out, waving animatedly.

Daichi slows the oxen pair and reluctantly turns around. Suga gives a hesitant smile and waves until Miyo tugs on his sleeve again, silently asking him to complete the story. He pauses and then turns away, walking along the path and out of sight.

Iwaizumi whistles and clicks his tongue to begin again. The familiar clinking of the chains and soft plodding of hooves fills the air again, but it feels hollow.

“So when are you going to tell us the truth about your feelings for Suga?”

Daichi snaps his head towards Oikawa who is leaning back on his hands, head upturned towards the sky. He swallows and then puts his all into working, pointedly ignoring the question.

“You are terrible at lying and hiding things, Daichi. Like you could escape my eyes,” Oikawa sighs, tapping his cheekbone to emphasize. “You’ve been all out of sorts lately and you’re about to burst under the weight of all your thoughts. It’s alright to like someone.”

Daichi grits his teeth and pushes the plow even faster, digging the toes of his shoes into the soft mud. He toils forwards, grunting and straining himself to ignore the nagging feelings wrapping around his chest. The oxen pair nearly trots to keep ahead of Daichi.

Iwaizumi lets it go on for a few minutes longer before he calls out, “Ho!” to stop the pair. He pants and pats their snuffling noses before looking over to the side. Daichi leans against the plow and struggles to catch his breath.

Oikawa gets up and sighs softly. He walks over and puts his hand on Daichi. However, Daichi shrugs it off and murmurs, “Not you too. You can’t tell me these things. That makes…” He looks up at Oikawa who winces at the fear and humiliation in Daichi’s eyes. “... that makes this real, doesn’t it?”

Oikawa takes his hand slowly and squeezes it firmly. When Daichi doesn’t reject him, Oikawa takes it as a sign to pull him even closer, hugging him tightly.

* * *

Daichi shuffles down the dirt road, purposefully kicking up dust, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He sighs deeply and stares at his shoes, brown with dirt and even caked up to his laces. A breeze blows a branch from a willow tree into his face and he lamely brushes it aside only to find it slap him back in the face when a stronger gust blows several into his face. Just as he parts the willow branches, the wind slaps a stray, wet piece of newspaper into his face  Crouching down he yells out his frustration, running his fingers wildly through his hair and tugging at it.

Laughter, melodious and freeing laughter breaks the rhythm of Daichi’s pent up anger. He looks up to find Suga perched in the tree, leaning against the trunk. He sits with one knee bent, a brown leather book resting atop of it, and the other leg swings aimlessly beneath the branch. “Well, today must have been quite a trying day I take it then.”

Daichi clears his throat and merely nods his head respectfully before turning smartly around and marching away.

“Wait, Daichi! Don’t go! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude... I’m sorry if you’ve taken offense to what I’ve said.”

Daichi grits his teeth and wills his legs to keep moving, to keep pressing forward until he could no longer hear the sound of his frustratingly wavering heart. _Nothing good will ever come of this. Before long, he will become just a fleeting memory if you can just bring yourself to take one step forward--_

Suga slides off from the branch and lands on the ground, patting himself off with one hand and clutching his book and pen in the other. “You aren’t mad are you? I’ll share my writing as compensation then. These aren’t the best, but nobody has ever seen them. You’d be the first.. Well first _real person_ that I’d be showing to. I don’t think of this willow tree as an audience though it has dutifully been listening every day now.”

Daichi turns to find Suga giving a hesitant but hopeful smile. There’s a moment hesitation where Daichi wonders if it’s too late to run but when his feet step towards Suga he can’t do anything but acknowledge it. _I knew. I knew from the moment that my feet took in a step in the wrong direction that I had fallen for you._

Suga sighs in relief, believing that Daichi had forgiven him, and then immediately starts flipping through the book to find the poem he had been working on most recently. Daichi keeps a polite distance away from Suga but Suga tugs him closer so they can read the text together. “I know that writing poetry is probably a frivolous skill for a congressman’s son and it will never amount to anything but I’ve always loved the sound of poetry. It speaks with less words. Like recently I went to Japan with Father on a diplomatic trip. I learned about haikus there. Did you know they can only use a limited amount of syllables in line? I haven’t quite gotten down the style yet.”

Daichi looks down at the paper and notices that Suga has written the poem vertically with each line to the left and indented. Only a few words are written in each line. He squints and counts the syllables. “5.7.4.”

“5.” Suga corrects before tapping the paper. “I haven’t finished that line yet… I can’t seem to find the right phrase for the last line. It stubbornly won’t fit.” He brings the pencil to his lips and cocks his head, pausing for a moment. “Peony petals, beautiful in passing winds, like…”

“Like fallen stars dimmed.” Daichi murmurs, thinking of how the monsoon was reaching its tail end and the nights would be much clearer. It was perfect for stargazing, something Oikawa loved so ridiculously. It was to be certain that they would probably spend a majority of summer nights asleep in the grass with fireflies as companions.

Suga smiles, looking up and imagining the night. “That line is beautiful. I think I’ll use it. Why don’t you write poetry as well? We could even exchange poems and suggest lines or help edit them! I’ve never had anyone to write with. Even a few letters of poetry would be fine.” He gets more and more excited, much to the amusement of Daichi, who knows that he is absolutely terrible at anything relating to literature. All he ever got out of proverbs and poetry was the appreciation that he would never fully understand nor replicate the art.

“Here.” Suga carefully tears the poem out of his diary and folds it into neat origami note, tucking the last corner of the note.

Daichi hesitates to reach for it. Suga takes Daichi’s hand and presses the note into it, firmly nodding as if to set the contract in stone.

As Suga’s hands linger, Daichi uncomfortably fidgets. “I don’t even know how to get started. Maybe you should ask Oikawa. He’s definitely a lot better with flowery language and wooing people.” He offers the note back but Suga shakes his head. His hands fall away but Daichi still feels ghosts of their touch, cradling his fingers.

“You don’t start with conscious thought really. A famous poet once said ‘Poetry is the diary of a land animal that wishes to know how to fly’. Whatever you desire and dream, even if you cannot reach them, just write.”

Daichi grips the letter tightly in his hand, stuffing it into his pocket.

* * *

The pencil taps on the wooden table continuously and the desk shakes from Daichi twitching his leg. He groans and runs his hands in his hair in frustration as he stares at the stubborn piece of paper again.

_Fair skin like moonlight_

_Smile so bright challenging sun_

_I have fallen you_

He could _not_ get the last line to fit. Haikus were so infuriating in that they were rather simple and easy to learn yet so difficult to execute. How could it be this tough to get a three line poem to fit within the syllables? He stares at the rest of the paper and winces to find his  earlier prototypes were much more… interesting

_Your hair like moon’s glow_

_I dream of you every night_ _  
_

_Your mole is so cute_

He bangs his head against the table and groans loudly enough for his mother to poke her head in. Daichi immediately sits straight up, blushing furiously and crumpling the paper in his fist. She scolds him while he crushes the poems into his hand so tightly it nearly goes numb. Finally she leaves and Daichi rests his head on the desk, exhales deeply. He thinks back to when Suga had been playing Clair de Lune and despite the fact that it was not meant for him… he would willingly listen to Suga play it again and again. If that would allow him to be close to him then he’d listen to it.

Maybe he couldn’t do haikus. Asking the most unpoetic, inelegant, amateurish person possible to condense all of his thoughts into a few simple lines was too much. But maybe if he had a few more lines. He writes...

_Can you hear my heart?_

_It beats wildly even still, in this moment_

_Would you listen to my heart?_

_Let it confess to you?_

 

_Like raindrops that race down windows_

_You tap on the glass panes of my heart_

 

_Can you hear my heart?_

_And know that it..._

* * *

 

Daichi stands outside of the red-bricked house nervously. Ivy vines curled up the side of the quaint, Victorian style homes. Even being in this neighborhood felt strange and disorienting compared to the long fields of green and brown that Daichi had witnessed all his life. Old wooden homes and farmhouses were common but houses like these… they truly represented those that had connections with the outside. Biting his lip he shakily takes the flashlight out of his back pocket and begins to flash it outside of the gate. He watches the silhouette in the second story window shrouded by the sheer curtains fluttering in the summer night breeze. He flashes the light a few more times, shining them more Suga’s way.

Just then the curtains spread and Suga looks in shock at the figure across the street, hiding beneath a lamppost. He quickly shuts the curtains and then silhouette disappears. Daichi nervously waits, clenching the folded note in his fingers tighter and tighter. What if Suga had gone to bed? Was he being too forward?  “Oikawa was right. _Michyeosseo_ . _Wanjeon_..”

The gate creaks open and Daichi nearly lets out a sigh of relief. Suga wraps a cardigan around himself and then looks back at his house before hurrying over.

“Daichi! What are you doing here!!”

Daichi knows that if he has committed himself by coming all the way out here despite pacing for hours in his room. It was too late. He was too far gone and he didn’t care that Suga was in love with someone else. The emotions roiling in his chest would never settle if he didn’t at least act once on his feelings.

He looks into Suga’s eyes, finding them twinkling with wonder and playful suspicion. Daichi feels the stirring in his chest again.

Daichi takes a deep breath and takes Suga’s hand, pressing his own origami note into Suga’s fingers. In the same moment he leans in and kisses him tenderly, lips slowly moving against Suga’s. This was it. The moment that his love would be shattered and he could finally move on--

Suga pulls down on Daichi’s shirt and deepens the kiss, gasping into it and pressing himself flush against Daichi’s body. Daichi nearly stands frozen as he processes the fact that _Sugawara Koushi_ is kissing him back in the middle of the street under a dim, poorly lit lamppost on a warm summer's night. When they pull away, Daichi looks unbelievably at Suga, eyes searching for an answer to which Suga answers with another gentle kiss.

* * *

... _loves you_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanjeon: Completely  
> Bul-suh: It's a common arm raising punishment for students where they raise their arms above their heads.  
> Gwaenchanh-ni: Are you okay? Very informal and endearing  
> Asah!: Heck yeah! Kind of like a victory cry  
> Aish: Fuck  
> Babo: Stupid  
> Michyeosseo: I'm crazy
> 
> *bows* Thank you so much for reading again. I want to thank everyone that has kudos or commented!! It was super amazing to get your wonderful love and I just want to wrap it around me like a blanket. Also thanks again to flameofarcana for writing the mole poem. LOL. I laughed for twenty minutes when I read that haiku. Unfortunately midterms are coming but I'm also really pumped for the next chapter? So we'll see which half of me wins out. Feel free to message me on tumblr. I love meeting new people ^^


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